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Right, so we park up, she’s all business – “Upfront, mister, no chrome, no ride.” I toss her some dosh, thinkin’, “I am the scales of justice!” – gotta keep it fair, yeah? She’s worth it, mate – tough as nails, hotter than a V8 engine. “To the gates of Valhalla!” I mutter, half-jokin’, as she struts off after. What a woman, what a bloody chase – shaken, not stirred, always.

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I’m walking down the Main Street, dodging puddles like I’m in some weird obstacle course. And then, BAM! I bump into Mrs. O’Reilly. She’s this sweet old lady who always has a story. Today, she’s raving about some “ghost” she saw near the old railway station. I’m like, “Sure, Mrs. O’Reilly, ghosts are just the spirits of bad decisions.” But she’s dead serious. I mean, who wouldn’t be spooked by the old Balbriggan train station? It’s got that eerie vibe, you know?

Death Notice of Seán Carroll (Balbriggan, Dublin)